Changing Times
by Leifr-Vitaya
Summary: Hogwarts is constantly changing, new doors appearing and old ones disappearing. But what about the contents of those rooms? Merry Rolfe makes an interesting, and devastating, discovery about the school that rips him from his world and to a new one.
1. Chapter 1

Albus Dumbledore was a busy man, even in the summer. He had schedules to plan, teachers to organize, and even a few to hire, depending on the general mood of the previous year. Of course, this meant that his duties included personally overseeing professors and their own preparations for the school year ahead.

And so, this led him to the dungeons, where Horace Slughorn had insisted on having an additional classroom for his NEWT level Potions class. To be fair though, Dumbledore mused, the man's results were far too good to complain about his eccentricities. His NEWT classes were almost full this year! Yes, he had no reason to complain.

The dungeons were rather dark, but impeccably clean as always. House elves were odd creatures, but he simply adored them, especially with their insistence on cleaning, even with no children to create messes.

As he turned the corner to find Horace's chambers, he was greeted by a new door, one he had never seen in all his years in the school. His brow raised in thought, but he paid it little mind.

As he turned away to continue, a thought occurred to him. This, he knew, could be the classroom for Horace's NEWT level Potions! A perfect location, not too far from the stairs, and close enough to the man's personal quarters that he could just walk in from the room down the hall!

It was a brilliant solution, and the old wizard's face wrinkled into a soft smile. He turned the doorknob, success at his very fingertips, and opened the door.

Merry slept in his little nest in the corner of the room, the paper and fabric beneath him indented into his shape after calling the room home for so long.

He didn't even need to sleep, but it was surprisingly comforting. The dungeon floor, once so cold, was warmed by the small fire that flickered within the jar at his side, blue flames waving, dare he think it, merrily(he wanted to tell someone that pun and hear them scold him for it. God, how he craved sound).

He was brought out of his sleep by a sound. It was foreign, after so long, and he found himself at a loss for what it could be.

What did it even matter? It was a sound, and he didn't cause it! He whirled around in his nest, limbs flailing for a moment, and his breath caught in his throat.

The door.

 _The door existed._

The door was open.

 _He could get out._

He scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as he could for the door, bare feet meeting the stone floor painfully, but he didn't care. Freedom was within his grasp!

He collided with the person who had opened the door, sending him falling back onto his rear. He cringed in pain for a moment before snapping his gaze back to the door, terrified that it would disappear again, not even caring for the old man he had nearly bowled over in his attempt(I'm sorry but you aren't important I'm so close).

Dumbledore remained on his feet, even as he was run into. He blinked owlishly at the young boy on the floor before him. Where had the lad come from?

Merry quickly got to his feet, fully aware of the stranger staring at him, and made another dash for the door. He couldn't stop!

He pushed past the man and ran all the way up the stairs, around the corner, and into the main hallway of the castle.

He was so close!

Finally, he thought, the doors. He slammed his body weight against them just as the old man, along with a woman who he presumed was his friend, appeared in the hall he had come from.

Minerva McGonagall, who had been rudely interrupted from her afternoon tea by the commotion, raised her wand to stop the frantic boy, but was stopped by the Headmaster raising a hand. "Let us see where he will go, before we do anything."

The boy let out a shout as he ran into the doors again, and they refused to budge under his pitiful weight. He snarled in anger, fully prepared to ram them again, before he stopped.

He had endured this torture long enough!

He drew his wand, pointed it at the door, and made a wordless cry(open open open please I need this). The doors were flung open and no sooner than they were then he was sprinting through them to the field.

He collapsed into the grass of the courtyard, knees wobbly and head fuzzy.

He flopped onto his back and stared up at the sky, drinking in sunlight(real, so real, realrealreal), and panted for all he was worth. He hadn't gotten to run so far in so long.

When Dumbledore and McGonagall finally caught up to him, he was laying in the grass, face content and body relaxed. There was no sign of the lunatic that had nearly run over the headmaster or attempted to blast open the Entrance Hall doors, just a happy child, though he looked quite worse for wear.

The pair exchanged a look before they turned their attention to him.

He was a very small boy, short and terribly skinny. He had a mess of dirty blonde hair on his head and dark brown eyes. His face was thin, but not gaunt, and his skin was tanned and seemed healthy.

It was Minerva McGonagall that finally spoke. "Sir, what business do you have, running through these halls like a madman? Albus?"

The boy showed no signs of even hearing them, seemingly content to ignore them(oh the sun warm warm warm).

She snapped, "Sir!"

He jolted up, a confused expression on his face. Were they talking to him? Wait, what were they even saying?

"Tha, chaill?" He said, uncertain.

The two adults blinked in confusion. What language was that? It was Minerva that figured it out.

"Albus," she started slowly, "I believe he's speaking Gaelic. Where… did you say you found him?"

Dumbledore suddenly understood. He looked intently into the boy's eyes and entered his mind, scanning the boy's subconscious. Flashes of memories and feelings of confusion wracked his brain before he withdrew as gently as he could from the boy's mind.

"Minerva, I believe that this young man is very lost. Perhaps we will understand much more if we could first understand him."

The Scottish woman nodded, and drew her wand. She aimed it at the boy and muttered under her breath, before stowing it away again. "That should do it." She nodded, satisfied.

The older man slowly sat down, so as not to startle the boy and the woman followed suit, with a slight grimace. They remained a short distance away from him, giving him space.

The old man smiled at the boy and began gently, "Now, can you tell us about yourself?"

The boy looked amazed that he could understand them finally, and nodded.

"Um, yes sir, my name is Merry Rolfe. Can you tell me something, uh, as well?" His voice shook with uncertainty, hoarse with disuse.

The old man nodded encouragingly.

"What's the date?"

"The date is July 2nd, 1973. Hogwarts just released for the holidays."

He stared at them in wonder. "1973? I… what? How could that…"

It had been a long time, indeed. He tried a different approach, instead.

"It has been a long, long time since you entered that room, Merry. I would venture to say it has almost a thousand years."

Merry's face lost all color and his eyes filled with tears. "But, but what of my professors? Lord Godric? And, and the Ladies Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff? And Lord Slytherin? Are they…"

Minerva blinked once. Then again. "Mr. Rolfe, do you mean to say that you have been taught by the Founders?"

Merry nodded quickly.

"Yes, of course! They're the best magic users of all time! But, if it's truly been as long as you've said..." His lower lip quivered, "then they're..."

The Headmistress was at a loss for words. This was a student from the Founder's time? Surely not! But the look on the Headmaster's face did not lie.

"I'm afraid that we did not go about this very well. I am Minerva McGonagall, the current Headmistress of Hogwarts. This is Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster."

There was no twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes, only a sad light. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances, my boy."

Merry's eyes dimmed. "Aye, sir."

Minerva leaned forward, her eyes wrinkling with concern. "If you don't mind me asking, Merry, how did you end up here?"

"I," Merry swallowed, "There were Muggles, ma'am. They stormed the castle, I don't know how. Maybe someone let them in, or maybe they captured a magical and… forced them, to tell. They came in the entrance hall, through the double doors. They carried torches, and weapons, all manner of things. I was coming up from the dungeons, I had been working with Lord Slytherin for extra lessons, and I saw them. They, they saw me. I panicked, I should have led them somewhere else, I…"

His eyes filled with unshed tears and he hunched his shoulders in on himself. "I was never a very good Gryffindor. I ran back down to the dungeons, and they caught up so quickly. I ran to a classroom and locked myself in, but they were at the door. I couldn't move, I was so terrified. There was banging, and screaming, and I saw their torches from the crack under the door. I couldn't take it, and I looked away. Then, all of a sudden, it was muffled. When I looked again, the door... it was gone… and it never came back until today. I don't know why, but I was in there for so long. I never grew hungry, or thirsty, and I never grew. I had nothing to do, but I had my wand."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. He understood that this was a matter that needed the utmost care, and it was a burden that weighed heavily on his mind. Suddenly, an idea struck him.

"I see. I find myself at a loss for what to do, but you're a student, and we take care of our students. So, how would you feel about continuing your education here, at Hogwarts?" His eyes did not twinkle, not to the boy who had lost so much.

Merry took a breath. What was he to say? How could he stay in a place that had done this to him? He wilted sadly.

He knew that despite what had happened, he still loved Hogwarts. It was his first home, and it was clear that it was the legacy of his professors. He could never hope to be them, but that was okay, wasn't it? Their legacy remained, and he could only do one thing.

"I would like to, sir. I want to honor the legacy of… of everyone from before." His voice was choked with emotion.

The man nodded. "Alright, then we will have to make arrangements. In the meantime, it is summer, but I imagine you are unfamiliar with the concept, yes?"

Merry nodded.

"The students take a few months off from school to reconnect with family and prepare for the following year, lad." Minerva explained, and her Scottish accent comforted him just a bit.

Merry made a small noise of understanding, not trusting his voice to conceal his emotions.

"Minerva," Dumbledore directed her attention to him, "I need to make some arrangements for him for the rest of the summer. I trust that you'll stay with him while I do?"

The woman nodded, "That won't be a problem."

"Excellent, then I shall return in a bit." He rose to his feet, brushed off his robes, which were an interesting shade of violet, and started off to his office.

He had a few people to floo call, after all.

0o0o0o0o0o0


	2. Chapter 2

Minerva McGonagall was a stern, very no-nonsense woman. Her position would allow her to be nothing less, of course, and she thought it suited her just fine.

So, whenever a student came to her, upset, she could do little more than offer refreshments and her best advice. Needless to say, students didn't come to her with emotional problems very much, and that was fine. Professor Sprout and even Madam Pomfrey were excellent at comforting children where she failed, and she knew that the Hufflepuff common room was host to a number of kind paintings, all of which would lend an ear to a student in need, no matter their house.

But now, being faced with a child that needed raw comfort? From _her?_ She was at a total loss.

"Mr. Rolfe?" She asked the boy, "Are you quite alright?"

Stupid, she thought, of course he wasn't.

His tanned face was ashen, his eyes downcast. His eyes shouldn't have been so old, she thought. No child should have any reason to be so upset, especially the wisp of a lad before her.

So, she gave the only comfort she knew she could give.

"Mr. Rolfe, I will have you know that, while I may teach Transfiguration, I know my way around a Cheering Charm, and I am not afraid to use it."

He gave a small smile and, upon seeing her mock-stern expression, gave a snort. The twinkle of his eyes was starting to return.

"Madam McGonagall, you remind me of Lord Slytherin."

She wasn't quite sure if she should have been offended, but she supposed that she had never met the actual Salazar Slytherin, so there wasn't much of a reason to argue. She raised a single brow. "Oh?"

He grinned. "Yes, he says all those same things. Once he told a member of his House that he uses sad children as Potions ingredients!"

She smiled fondly, and gestured for him to continue.

He went on with vigor, explaining how each of his Professors acted and what they were best at, a smile so wide on his face that she thought it might split. His eyes held some light again, she thought fondly.

Maybe she was alright at this whole 'comfort' thing, after all.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Meanwhile, Albus Dumbledore was contemplating the enigma that was Merry Rolfe.

The most obvious solution to him was to place Merry with a family that had a student in Hogwarts, to get the boy acclimated to the current youth and to help him with making friends. This meant, though, that he would have to be practically adopted into that family, and he wasn't sure how to go about it.

He wanted to find a student that was around the same age and came from a magical family that was wealthy enough that they could handle another child for 2 months out of the year, at least. He had a few candidates, but none seemed to be perfect.

Then, a thought occurred to him. Merry wouldn't have any friends, and would be entering into his third year, he estimated based on the boy's memories.

His eyes drifted over to a file he had discarded, and he quickly summoned it over to his desk.

 ** _James Potter_**

He hummed to himself and examined the file.

Overall, he was a good kid, just a prankster, and there would be no better family than the Potters, a couple who had desperately wanted children but could only have one. They would adore young Merry and he would adore them, and, as an added bonus, James was a Gryffindor, which he was certain Merry would be excited about, if his reverence to the house was anything to go by.

But much more importantly than all of that, taking Merry would entail a lot of work, mostly because the boy didn't have an identity in the eyes of the Magical World. The easiest way would be to have him registered at a Muggle orphanage, with a few Confundus charms for good measure, and then have him adopted by a magical family, which would get the lad paperwork in the magical world.

It would mean that the boy would have a family.

He nodded, his decision already made for him. From his perch, Fawkes gave a chirp.

"Yes Fawkes, I agree. James Potter is the perfect candidate. Now, how do we ask the family to accept a thousand year old boy into their home for the next two months?" He mused.

Fawkes let out a loud trill, puffing out his tail feathers. His beady eyes seemed to stare through the man.

Dumbledore smiled, for he knew what that look meant. "Of course, my friend, of course."

He summoned a quill and a small scroll of parchment, and began on his letter.

0o0o0o0o0o0

With a flash of light and fire, Fawkes appeared on the Potter's dinner table, a letter clutched in his talons.

The Potters were a reasonable family, and they were all very familiar with the concept of magic, all possessing it and growing up with it. So of course, if asked, they would say that a Phoenix appearing on their kitchen table was no big surprise and every family member took it calmly in stride.

Of course, they would be lying.

Fleamont Potter, the father of James and the husband of Euphemia, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, yelled and jumped to his feet, before tripping over the chair he had pushed over in his haste to get up. The gangly old man scrambled for purchase on the ground before giving up, either accepting his fate or praying his wife would solve the problem.

James Potter, the Potter Heir and proclaimed Marauder, fared no better, letting out an unmanly screech and falling down from the table, hitting his head on the floor.

Euphemia Potter, the woman who despised titles, fared much better, only knocking over a glass of water and drawing her wand, before her shock was mostly gone. The woman was certainly sturdier than her husband and son.

The Phoenix that had caused the commotion seemed rather undisturbed, preening a bit while he waited for one of the family members to accept the letter that he clutched in sharp talons.

Euphemia took the letter with steady hands, humor in her eyes. The phoenix was a better prankster than even her son, she mused, and it didn't even seem like the bird was trying.

"Bloody demon bird." Fleamont rubbed his sore behind, mostly trying to save his pride.

"Ruddy oversized chicken." James sent the phoenix a dirty look, a smile betraying his apparent ire.

As she read over the letter and her family arose from the floor, her eyebrows creased with thought. She turned to her husband. "Hurry and finish eating, we need to go see Albus."

James was worried. Was the Headmaster contacting his parents about him? He paled at the thought. What if they were going to separate him from his friends because of their pranks? Surely that couldn't be it, right? Right?

At the look on his son's face, Fleamont grinned, his injured pride no longer plaguing him. "Ah, so he's following up about James, then?"

James froze, looking between his parents with a growing horror. "Following up? What are you guys talking about?"

His parents exchanged a solemn glance before Euphemia snorted, a barely-suppressed grin on her face.

James groaned. "You guys are so mean to me! I thought I was your favorite son!"

Fleamont cracked a smile. "You're our only son, so by default, you're both our favorite and least favorite."

Euphemia sent a light stinging hex at her husband with a grin on her face. "Fleamont!" She scolded.

The man laughed before turning to pick up his chair and finish his food.

James looked to his mother. "So, if it's not about me, then why does the Headmaster need to see you?"

Euphemia shifted a bit, a frown marring her features, "I can't really tell you until we meet with him and have the discussion, but I suppose that your opinion matters, as well. If you'd like-"

"Yes, I would love to come!" James cheered, doing a victory jig.

"Finish your food, goofball." His mother lightly scolded the boy before she turned back to her own, deep in thought.

What would it mean, to bring another child into the house? Especially one with the troubles that Albus seemed to think he may have…

Well, she decided, there was only one way to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

TW: Attempted suicide mentions. Very brief, but there. Once it gets down to Dumbles and memories, skip past chapter if bothered. You're not missing much, just general trauma.

oOoOoOoOo

In the Headmaster's office, Merry practically vibrated with anxiety. His leg bounced up and down and he twiddled his thumbs, avoiding any eye contact.

The meeting would determine the rest of his life, and he was terrified. What if they didn't like him? Or didn't want a child of his background? Or maybe they wouldn't care about him and just not want the hassle?

He took a moment to cool down. He looked around the office, filled with miscellaneous clutter and objects. For some reason, a large telescope stood next to the Headmaster's desk, while, in the area that actually looked like an observatory, there was a grandfather clock and shelves of books. Perhaps it was a different sort of telescope?

Now that he thought about it, for an office, it looked an awful lot like Dumbledore spent all his time there. Surely there was a cot, a bed, something?

Maybe not, though, he considered the paintings all around the room who all seemed to be judging them. Perhaps they judged because they had to see Dumbledore in his sleeping clothes every night? Maybe the old man slept in the nude? Ew...

The thought was enough to distract him, at least.

Albus Dumbledore sat calmly at his desk, lightly stroking Fawkes' head with a wrinkled finger. He would occasionally fold up the wrappers of the candy on his desk, making little cranes and fortune-tellers.

Finally, Fawkes let out a loud trill, puffing out his tail feathers in a beautiful show of red and gold. The room was suddenly illuminated by an eerie glow as the fireplace flared to life with bright green flames.

A woman stepped out, followed by a man, who stopped in front of the fireplace to help out a teenager, who apparently hadn't mastered Floo travel yet.

The woman had features that Merry could only think to describe as kind. Her brown eyes were lined with smile wrinkles and her dark hair, pulled into a bun on her head, held not a single bit of grey. The man had lighter eyes, a green that seemed to twinkle as they surveyed the room, and his messy hair was starting to gain a salt-and-pepper look. The boy seemed to be about Merry's age, and looked exactly like his mom, with more of his father's messy hair. They looked nice, he supposed.

Oh. They were, Merry swallowed, the Potters. Oh, he needed to make a good impression!

Dumbledore greeted them happily. "Euphemia, Fleamont! I'm glad you could make it, and I do apologize for the short notice. Mr. Potter, how has your summer been?"

The boy, James, Merry recalled, perked up. "It's been good, Professor, and yours?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Mine has been excellent. I have discovered a muggle candy that I simply adore- lemon drops!" He motioned to a small bowl of sweets on his desk, "Care for one?"

James reached for one, but was stopped by his mother. "We actually just ate," she gave him a look, "and we do rather need to discuss the elephant in the room. I was hoping you could explain things to us so that we can get a better understanding of the situation."

Dumbledore nodded, but raised a hand. "Ah, yes. First, I believe that we should send young Merry and James into the hall so we may discuss the circumstances."

The older Potters seemed amenable, but James was not happy. "But Professor, I thought I needed to know about it, whatever _it_ is!"

The Professor nodded, and said, "You would need to know if your parents understood the whole situation and were alright with it, but as it stands for now, you do not need to know, Mr. Potter."

James looked disgruntled, but nodded. He turned to leave the office, and Merry quickly followed.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Out in the hallway, James rounded on Merry.

"Alright, what gives? Everyone's acting all weird and I know you have something to do with it."

Merry looked up at James and shrugged. He knew that he wasn't supposed to say anything, in case word of his rather unique circumstances and knowledge came to the wrong ears. He wasn't quite sure who the wrong ears could be, but it didn't hurt to be cautious.

James frowned. "Come on, give me something!"

The smaller boy just shrugged again, avoiding eye contact. "I don't know much, just that we're not supposed to talk about it."

He took a moment to really look at the boy beside him. The kid was scrawny, and his frame didn't suggest that he was very well fed. His dark trousers seemed worn and they were made of a material that James had never really seen before, but they weren't very high quality if they had that many holes. His shirt was the same way, a dark maroon with sleeves that seemed as if they had been picked at and torn over a number of years. He wore no shoes, just bare feet that tapped nervously on the stone floor.

James took a step toward the smaller boy, making him back up. "Come on, I won't tell!"

Merry's eyes quickly widened. He took a step back, shoulders squared as if expecting the taller boy to do something. James opened his mouth to say something before screwing it shut.

Suddenly, he had an idea as to what the meeting was about.

The Potter groaned before he tried a different approach. "Look, Merry, right? James Potter."

He stuck a hand out, and Merry cautiously took it.

"It's nice to meet you, I'm Merry, uh, Merry Rolfe."

James grinned, glad to finally get a name out of the soft-spoken boy. He glanced around the hallway to see if there were any chairs, but there weren't, so he just sat down on the ground. He shifted a bit, nervous and not terribly comfortable on the cold stone.

"So, uh, do you like Quidditch?"

Merry frowned, but sat down next to him, settling down on the stone easily, "What's that?"

James turned to him with a horrified expression, "What's Quidditch? Are you serious?"

Merry didn't say anything, seemingly retreating back into his shell. He busied himself by tracing small patterns into the floor they sat on.

"Of course you are. Okay, Quidditch is this game where…"

And James launched into a rant about what Quidditch was, how to play, as well as the rules and such, and Merry was fascinated. A game played on broomstick? How completely absurd! But then again, he'd been away for a long time...

Mid-explanation, James frowned at the way his words fell flat compared to the real game. "Ugh, I can't explain it very well, but I'd show you if I could!"

Merry thought for a moment before he drew his wand. He concentrated on his magic for a moment before he created a small illusion of a field in front of James, and created three tall hoops on each side of the field.

The taller boy cut himself off mid-ramble in wonder. That was advanced illusion magic, and the kid in front of him had just done it with no problems! He stared at the little display and poked at one of the six hoops, amazed when the whole thing didn't flicker at all, but his finger just went right through it.

"Merlin! That's bloody amazing! How do you know- oh! This hoop's supposed to be a bit bigger, here, see…"

And thus, the two both endeavored to learn, one about Quidditch, and one about his new friend and the sweet illusion magic that he knew.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Meanwhile, Dumbledore had risen from his seat and motioned for the two other adults to do the same. He led them over to a cabinet.

"Before I show you this, I must ask that you give me permission to wipe your memories if this arrangement cannot work out. The information I am about to show you is extremely sensitive, and if it fell into the wrong hands, I would fear for young Merry." He said gravely, bright eyes steely.

Euphemia and Fleamont exchanged a questioning glance before seeming to agree.

"We accept, Professor." Euphemia said as Fleamont nodded in agreement.

The Headmaster opened the cabinet, revealing a Pensieve. "I acquired this artifact when I accepted the title of Headmaster, and have sparsely used it since. I had little need, you see. I trust you both are not totally familiar with it?"

They nodded.

"Once I put in my memories, you just need to get closer to the surface of the water. The Pensieve will do the rest." He instructed.

Dumbledore held the end of his wand to his temple and closed his eyes. He held it there for about thirty seconds before he finally extracted the memory- a long, wispy strand of substance that seemed to behave like hair submerged in water.

When the substance entered the water, any reflections on the surface of the water vanished, leaving the trio looking down on what seemed to be a whole room beneath the surface of the water.

Fleamont and Euphemia leaned closer to the surface, trying to make out the picture.

Dumbledore, grinning slyly, waited until they were closer, almost touching the water with their noses... then, he took a hand to the backs of their heads and pushed them into the water.

Only when they disappeared did he join them in the Pensieve.

The two landed in a bit of a mess of limbs and robes, failing to separate themselves for a moment. Dumbledore landed gently beside them and watched the two with amusement.

"Albus!" Euphemia yelled, her tone indignant and her face cherry red. Fleamont just glared heatedly, seeming content to allow his wife to yell at the older man.

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Simply trying to lighten the mood before a most depressing memory, Lady Potter."

"Oh, don't you 'Lady Potter' me, Albus, I'll-"

Fleamont cut her off. "Euphemia, look."

She glared at Dumbledore before she did so, but once she turned, she didn't look away.

They stared at a young boy, Merry, looking much more well-kept than they had seen in the office. He was walking through the dungeons with a smile on his face.

"He's wearing shoes." Fleamont noted with a smile.

"Was he not in the office?" Euphemia asked without looking away from the boy.

"Feet were as bare as can be, dear."

"Hm."

They followed him as he walked upstairs, until he paused. He looked over to the Great Hall's outside doors, and they all paused, listening, hearing noise from the other side.

With a great **BOOM,** the doors fell from their hinges and to the ground, revealing behind them-

"Is that a mob?? Albus, _what_ is going on here?" Euphemia was horrified!

Albus held up a hand and the memory stopped, freezing just as Merry turned to run away with a look of sheer terror on his face.

"What you're seeing is Merry's memory of a night that happened long ago, almost 1,000 years ago. I looked into his mind and this is what I saw." He said in a somber tone.

The memory resumed as Merry sprinted from the room and back into the dungeon halls.

The trio had difficulty keeping up until the memory paused with another wave of a hand and the Headmaster just took them to the Room.

Once the memory resumed, they witnessed Merry throw himself into the empty classroom before struggling against the mob to lock the door.

They were forced to watch as he had a panic attack on the floor of the room and could do nothing.

"Albus, tell me this gets better." Fleamont begged the older man, whose eyes wrinkled in pity. That was answer enough.

"Oh, Merlin."

Merry scrambled back from the door as the mob made attempt after attempt to gain entry, and he cried out, "No, no, no, please don't let them get it!"

The Headmaster waved his hand again and the memory paused.

"Before I show you the rest, you must understand something. Merry begged for help and nobody could come, but I believe that the castle responded. Doors appear and disappear in Hogwarts all the time, and when they disappear, you can't do much except for wait for them to come back. However, Merry is the first case in which a person was locked in when it disappeared."

He paused for a moment for them to process. When nobody made a move to speak, he continued. "He was locked in this room for over 900 years. He did not age, nor did he need to eat or drink, and much of his time in this room was spent- well, you'll see."

They watched in abject horror as the door disappeared, leaving only stone in its place. With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore moved the memory forward to another part of Merry's imprisonment.

He showed them the time that Merry hurled curse after spell after hex after jinx at the wall, even sprinting at it and ramming himself against it twice before he curled up and started to cry.

He showed them Merry summoning his Patronus so he wouldn't feel as lonely, even giving the creature a name of its own.

He showed them Merry attempting to distract himself by counting to absurdly high numbers and making a new tally mark on the chalkboard every time he hit it.

He showed them the time that Merry created sculptures of people, crafted with such fine detail, just to have somebody that looked human to talk to. Then, Dumbledore showed them as Merry destroyed those sculptures. He showed them as the boy relished every second of that hollow, anguished pain, because he could at least still _feel_ something.

He showed them all the times when Merry recreated the enchantment on the Great Hall's ceiling, even though the enchantment would only last for seven months, at most.

He showed them the times that the lad would put all the magic he could into a Stupefy aimed at his own head, if only to pass a few weeks by. After all, he didn't know the incantation for the Killing Curse.

He didn't show them everything, and Merry would be thankful for him keeping that particular secret, one day.

oOoOoOoOo


	4. Chapter 4

Out in the hallway, time flew by. However, before James could show Merry a Wronski Feint, performed by a little illusioned Chudley Cannon seeker, they were summoned back into the Headmaster's office by James' father.

As they rejoined the group, the air grew more serious. Dumbledore nodded and James' mother turned to the two boys.

"Boys," Euphemia said, "we have something to tell you."

Fleamont couldn't contain himself, "Merry's going to live with us!"

"Fleamont!" Both Dumbledore and Euphemia scolded, and while Fleamont smiled sheepishly, the boys were floored.

"Well," Euphemia continued, "he's right. If Merry agrees, he is welcome to come live with us and continue his magical education."

James was shell-shocked. "Wait, wait, he's going to live with us? And go to Hogwarts with me?"

Merry was blown away. He hadn't had a family since his mother died, and that had been two years before he came to Hogwarts. He was one among many orphaned students, the witch hunts being such a danger, but it was still a sad state of affairs. To have a family again would be...

Dumbledore nodded in response to their questions, a proud smile on his face. "Yes, to all of your questions. Essentially, this would entail Merry… becoming a Potter. But James, remember that you do have a say in all of this. If you are firmly against having a brother, then you can say so."

James shook his head, elated. He reached over and enveloped Merry in a tight hug. "Welcome to the Potter family, mate! Oh, this is gonna be great! We can play Quidditch in the backyard and go to Diagon Alley and shop around and you'll just love our roommates at school and, and…"

James slowly stopped talking as he looked at Merry's face. The smaller boy's eyes were filling with tears and his bottom lip quivering.

"Merry?" He asked softly, releasing the boy carefully from his grip. He leaned in closer to his friend's face, but didn't touch him, as if afraid of hurting him. "What's wrong?"

The moment his arms came down, Merry shook his head and blinked away his tears, embraced his brother. "T-thank you, thank you, thank you…"

The older Potter boy was shocked at the response, but smiled and hugged his brother. His brother...

He was gonna be the best big brother, he knew it! And of course, the coolest big brother, he couldn't forget that.

Euphemia and Fleamont smiled. They had made the right decision. The experience would be good for James and they couldn't leave Merry after what they had seen. If it was up to them, nobody would leave him ever again.

The boys released one another and grinned at each other, one teary eyed, and they turned to James'- no, their- parents.

Euphemia introduced herself first. "Hello Merry, my name is Euphemia Potter. You may call me whatever you like, no pressure at all, dear."

"Hello Merry, my name is Fleamont Potter. Yes, it is a girls name. Yes, I am a man. Call me by anything you wish, although Madam Fleamont _is_ off the table." Their father introduced himself with a wink.

Merry smiled at them before he wiped away his tears with a ratty sleeve. "Hi, my name is Merry Rolfe, and I suppose I'm your son now."

oooOOoooOOooo

Dumbledore sent McGonagall to speak to the two adult Potters and Merry in the Entrance Hall while he had a word with James.

He led the boy down a hallway in a comfortable silence, going nowhere in particular.

"James, there is something that you need to know about Merry."

The boy's face wrinkled in confusion. "Sir?"

"Merry... has been isolated for quite some time, this will be apparent the more time you spend with him. He may not sleep regularly, or he'll at least have difficulty. The lad may need more care than a normal boy your age, and while your parents are aware, I thought you needed to know, too. He'll probably become rather attached to you, and I need you to be prepared for that eventuality." Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eyes turning serious.

"So, what will that mean?"

"He'll value your opinion very highly, I would imagine, and would do his best to keep you happy. We chose you because we know you wouldn't abuse that kind of responsibility, no matter how badly you might want to at times." The man was thoughtful.

James nodded. Still, though, his new brother was a bit of a mystery. "Sir, if I can ask, what exactly happened to him?"

Dumbledore shook his head, looking every one of his hundred years. "I'm afraid you will have to ask him that, but I have told him that he is permitted to let you all know, so long as it is kept between your family."

He frowned but understood. Merry would tell him eventually, he knew, and even if he didn't, why did it matter?

He couldn't help but be curious, though.

oooOoooOoooOooo

Merry settled into life with the Potters well enough, as they were a very welcoming family. He enjoyed their quirks and hiccups and they enjoyed his.

Although, it was a very odd experience, living with them. For one, he had no chores to do, which struck him as unnatural. Surely there was something to help with! But no, even James had no chores, and unless they were needed by the oldest Potters, they were free to do as they pleased.

Merry, of course, took to the Potter family library like a fish to water. He wanted to learn about any and all advancements in magic!

He spent so much time in there, in fact, that he was sometimes greeted by a few new items, (such as a blanket, a parchment and quill, and a pillow) in his little nook. Well, alright, it was a corner of the library surrounded by tables that he had squirreled books away in. It was rather comfortable, though.

However, it was still a large adjustment. Ever since he had left that Room, he could hardly stand to sleep in a windowless room with closed doors, for fear of being locked in again.

He was so happy to have the Potters, though, because Fleamont, realizing the problem, promptly vanished the door to his room altogether. He knew it probably seemed weird to James, but it really helped him.

Despite that, he didn't sleep very well, and would frequently avoid sleeping to avoid his nightmares. He would hide in the library and read to pass the time, improving his written English and trying to help the spell cast by Professor McGonagall to work better(translation charms were said to only _really_ work if the user put in effort towards learning the language)

When he couldn't sleep and didn't want to read, he would quietly explore the house. However, once he found the stone basement and couldn't sleep for a week, he decided that he would be avoiding any more exploration for the foreseeable future.

The family did their best to welcome him. Euphemia offered to let him help with some things she did manually, claiming that, 'magic can never beat the real thing,' especially with sewing. James taught him Quidditch, and Merry was absolutely positive that his illusions hadn't even come close. Fleamont tried to teach him more magic, but quickly found himself learning from his adopted son's magic, particularly illusions and charms.

He had, after all, been given _many_ years to learn it, and could even claim to be self taught. He was bitter, yes.

oooOoooOoooOooo

Soon, July and most of August had both passed, and with that, on August 28th, two Hogwarts letters arrived with an owl that seemed to stare through Fleamont as he untied the letters.

The first was for James, detailing his scores in his classes("An A in History of Magic? James!") as well as giving them a list of school supplies for the following year.

The second, and the larger of the two, was addressed to Merry, announcing his acceptance into Hogwarts, containing a list of school supplies, and a file titled, 'Ministry Papers.'

And so, Fleamont took James to get all of their school supplies while Euphemia took Merry to the Ministry to get his citizenship settled.

The tall woman took a handful of powder and threw it into the fireplace. After Fleamont stepped through, she turned to James and started fussing with his hair as she spoke.

"Stay out of trouble, get everything you need, and for heaven's sake, keep your father out of trouble as well, he'll probably need it."

"Alright Mum, alright!" He waved her hands away from his hair. "Will do, take care you guys!"

After the older boy had made his escape, Euphemia turned to Merry with a smile on her face.

"You ready?" She asked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Have your papers?"

"Yes, Ma'am." He held up a folder.

"Just checking! Okay, throw in a handful of powder, yell, 'Ministry Atrium,' and step through. Do be careful, the landing can be tricky." She instructed with a steady gaze.

He nodded.

She held out the little bag of powder and he grabbed as much as he thought he could, turned to the fireplace, and chucked it in.

The flames flared up in an emerald green blaze, and he yelled, "Ministry Atrium!"

As he stepped through, he kept a firm grasp on his folder, the item seemingly containing his whole future.

When he opened his eyes, he was in a large and busy room, lit by windows in a far-away ceiling. The bricks of the room were a pleasant green and the statues and ornaments that decorated the room were all gold in color, although he inwardly cringed at the thought of them being actual gold. How gaudy!

He stepped out of the fireplace quickly and stood aside, awaiting the Potter matriarch.

As soon as she left the fireplace, she gently took his shoulder and steered him through the scattered crowds of people. They walked through what Merry considered to be a maze of hallways, before finally coming to a halt in front of a door reading, 'Office of Muggle-Magical Affairs.'

As soon as the two walked in, they noticed a different atmosphere than the busy hallways of the Ministry Atrium. There was no sound save for the light rustle of papers moving about by themselves, guided by the wand of a bored looking witch. She was somehow directing papers and reading a book at the same time.

The witch sat at a small desk, surrounded by stacks of papers and filing cabinets that reached to the ceiling. The room seemed to be a mess, but a very organized one.

Euphemia cleared her throat.

The witch didn't look up from her book. The title was, 'Love Potion #9.'

Merry coughed.

She didn't look up.

Euphemia apparently had enough, because she grabbed Merry's folder from him, walked right up to the desk, cleared off a space, and put it down, none too gently.

She finally looked up.

"Can I help you?" She said, sounding like she would rather jump off a bridge than actually do so.

"Yes, you can, I need a Muggle-Magical citizenship application." Euphemia said firmly.

The witch lazily pointed her wand to a filing cabinet where a small stack of papers flew out.

"Fill out these, attach the required forms listed under subsection 28C, and put it in the 'Filled Out' basket over there." She pointed out the basket and returned to her book.

Euphemia took out a Self-Inking Quill from her purse and got to work.


End file.
